


fun... and fair?

by schwanenkoenigin



Series: only you pt. 1 [7]
Category: Fifth Harmony (Band)
Genre: F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-15 14:53:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18671914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schwanenkoenigin/pseuds/schwanenkoenigin
Summary: Camila and Lauren are at a fun fair and Camila is determined to win Lauren something.





	fun... and fair?

It is the most beautiful day out. Trees are blooming, birds are chirping, bees are flying around; everything is green and wonderful. For once, Camila has decided to make something out of it. Instead of staying at home, being bored to death, she'd called Lauren this morning. She'd told her she wanted to spend this incredibly sunny spring day with her best friend. “And who may that be?” she’d immediately teased her, but hadn’t gotten much of an answer; Camila had simply rolled her eyes, called her a dork, and then hung up.

This had led to Lauren greeting her with a light punch to the shoulder. The usual hug had not followed. This hadn’t bothered Camila much on the outside. On the inside, however, she had been sad. A tiny bit disappointed. She had _hoped_ to receive a hug. She always does. Why, you may wonder. You see, Camila _loves_ affection, she _loves_ touches and holding hands and all that physical stuff. And since Lauren doesn’t feel the same way about that kind of thing, she feels Special. Because Lauren does do it with her. So when that hug is denied, she fears the worst. Mabe Lauren doesn’t love her anymore—as a friend—or maybe found a better best friend.

“--you there?”

Camila shrieks. Jesus, she definitely hasn’t listened to anything her friend has just said. She was busy being way too lost in her thoughts. “I’m-- I’m sorry, what?” She blinks, waiting for her companion to answer, all the while trying to wrap her head back around reality. It’s kind of loud around them, to be honest, and there are a lot of people. How one manages to zone out under these circumstances, she’s not too sure. She blames falling in love with her best friend.

Lauren lets out a laugh. “I could tell you weren’t mentally with me there. I’m wondering if you want to go destroy some can pyramids.”

Camila hums. It’s not a bad idea, really. On the contrary, it’s  a great idea. It’s something to pass their time with, it’s not all that exhausting—no walking is involved—and it may give them a break from all the people. So she agrees. “Sure, let’s go.”

“Okay!” And without a warning, Lauren takes off. As if she’s a goddamn athlete.

A dumbfounded Camila is left behind. She barely sees Lauren anymore after a few seconds; the woman is too mingled into the crowd already. With a shake of her head, Camila starts running as well, even though she’d promised herself she wouldn’t do _any_ exercise—this is precisely why she suggested going to a funfair in the first place and it is also why she agreed on throwing some cans off of a table—and arrives only a few seconds later as the stall is only a few hundred feet down the path. “Jesus,” she coughs, “we couldn’t have _walked_ here?”

Laure shrugs her shoulders at Camila’s accusatory gaze. “Whatever,” she says, “we’re here. And there aren’t a lot of people here. So let’s do this.”

The younger woman bites her lip. It’s true. There really aren’t a lot of people here. Even though they haven’t walked that far. Strange, she thinks, how, a few minutes ago, she felt like she was drowning in perfumes and smells and bodies that were trying to get past one another, and now she can breathe almost freely. She inhales and closes her right. “Alright.” When she opens them again and turns to her right—to check how far she has to throw the ball—she swallows. “Lauren!” she says, shocked, “you said we were going to mess up some pyramids, not _I’m going to embarrass you because there is no way you can even remotely hit the cans because you’re too clumsy_!”

There is a silence for a few seconds, but it’s interrupted when Lauren cannot hold back her laughter anymore. “Wow,” she says, then bites her lip to choke back more laughter, “that-- that was a lot of exposition.”

The eye roll that follows is almost painful. It’s mostly because _how dare Lauren make fun of her_ , but it’s also supposed to cover up the fact that Camila is already super embarrassed about the lack of skills she has in, well, essentially everything. She’s so clumsy and she cannot estimate distances or how strong her throws have to be and she is going to be so _bad_ at this. How and why did she agree to this? Yeah, okay, she knows but--

“You keep getting lost in thought.”

Ironically enough, _this_ is the statement that brings her back to reality. “What? I-- uh, sorry.” Her cheeks grow red.

“It’s okay, I know it’s not something you can control.” The smile on Lauren’s lips is genuine. So sweet and genuine that Camila cannot believe she has her as a best friend. Is it even legal for someone to be so understanding and loveable and beautiful? “And I know all about things one can’t control.” God, Camila just wants to hug her and never let her go. The shoulder bump that follows her words will do for now, though. “Let’s just fuck up those stacks now!”

Camila feels hands on the hem of her shirt. It’s Lauren, the woman is tying to drag her in the direction of the stall, wants them to step close so they can ask for a few tries of the game. She lets herself be dragged after a few seconds; and is greeted by an older man behind the counter. _Okay, it’s now or never. No backing out now_. She straightens her back next to an already talking Lauren, focusing on taking deep breaths. She can do this. She _will_ do this. She will impress her best friend and make her her girlfriend. Although-- Jesus, why did she have to go there? Now that she's admitted it to herself, she’s going to be so distracted that her clumsiness will reach its peak. She’s not going to hit anything.

“Camz, look at me!” she hears Lauren call distantly. It doesn’t register right away, so she just looks ahead, eyes concentrated on nothing in particular, and only once her friend shakes her shoulders does she come back into real life. “Camz,” she hears again, “Camila, please look at me.”

This time, it sinks in. She promptly complies—she looks up, to her left, where Lauren seemed to have spoken from, and is met with a very concerned look on her face. “Um,” she stutters, “uh-- what?” If her cheeks have lost their heat from before, now’s the time for it to come back. Why must she always zone out? It’s so embarrassing. She _hates_ her illness.

“You were _really_ gone there,” Lauren explains. Her face is scrunched up in worry, her brows are knitted in confusion. “I didn’t want to--” Didn’t want to _what_? The sentence is never finished. Instead, Lauren bites her lip, looks down—nervously—and finally finishes by stating, “I just wasn’t sure you were listening.”

Camila watches her turn away. She’d meant to say something else, hadn’t she? _It doesn’t matter_ , she tells herself, _focus on the game_. So she simply puts her hands in her pockets as Lauren is already talking to the man, telling him again that they want to play a few rounds. “Yeah,” she insists after Lauren has ended her speech, “yeah, we want to play.” It doesn’t sound too convincing, not even to her own ears—she is, after all, sill a bit distracted by everything that has just gone on and, oh, her _confession_ , too—but it will be alright for now. Lauren and the man obviously believe her as they don’t ask anything else.

So Camila puts on her determined face—she’s found it somewhere inside her, somewhere she doesn’t usually look and somewhere she didn’t know she could reach anymore, a dusty place—and gets ready to _rock_.

This, again, makes Lauren chuckle. “Jeez, think you can make the cans fall just by looking at them?”

“Huh?”

“You look like you’re trying to get them to fall down if you look at them hard enough. I don’t think it works like that, Camz.”

Camila raises an eyebrow at the remark. “Maybe it does.”

A hum follows. “Maybe it does.”

They start laughing after this, and it’s intense and hearty and it doesn’t feel like spring. Spring means inconsistency and rain clouds and bitten back laughter. That’s not what this is. _This_ is something that makes things feel like they’re going to last forever; it’s sunny skies and shared laughs on a sandy beach as you’re looking at golden sunsets. It’s summer, it’s wonderful, it’s _them_. And Camila doesn’t care about how badly she’s going to lose in a second, because in this second she swears she’s going to win Lauren over somehow. She’s going to have to have to do that by absolutely _bossing_ the whole can thing, and she has no idea how she’s going to accomplish that, but she has to do it. For Lauren.

Lauren, the girl she will eventually get lost in if she stares any longer. Lauren, the girl who reminds her of blooming trees and fields of bright flowers and--

“Okay,” she says in a try to pull herself out of her dreamy _Lauren is mine_ world.

It doesn’t really work right away, though. As expected, she doesn’t hit a lot of cans. At one point, she hears the cans fall, and she's totally ready to jump into the air to celebrate her victory, but as it turns out, she's hit the pyramid next to her.

Lauren stands next o her the entire time that she tries and tries and tries, and she encourages her and cheers her on even after missing by a _mile_ , but, still, Camila’s relationship with the ball doesn’t seem to get any better. Her throwing is exactly as bad as she imagined it would be. But, "It's only because the ball has a mind of its own. I swear. It's not my fault." No, it _isn't_ Camila's fault. This game is just goddamn _rigged_. They don't want her to win. Want to keep their prizes. Obviously.

"It's okay, Camzi," Lauren soothes, "it's just a game. Let's try out something else." The words are accompanied by a gentle smile.

Camila slumps down, away from the counter, and shrugs. Pure defeat graces her features. What can she do now? Lauren has seen that she sucks. No need to stay. God, she needs a plan. Quick. "Sure," she sighs, "let's try something else."

Lauren puts a comforting hand on the younger woman's arm. As if to say, _It's okay, I still love you._ Unfortunately, she doesn't love in the same way.

So the only kind of smile Camila can muster up when she looks up at her friend is a sad one.

Still, part of her lets herself be comforted by the gesture, and falls in love with Lauren even more. Because she's so loving. Always intent on making Camila feel good. Not leaving her out there in the spring rain feeling embarrassed. It's an admirable thing, really, and it's one of the many reasons why she loves Lauren Jauregui.

Another reason is that Lauren loves stuffed animals. Which there are a lot of here. And Camila realizes this, _notes_ this for the first time as she looks _past_ Lauren and scans her surroundings. _Maybe this will work_. Maybe she could win one of the big plushies and give it to her as a present. Given the fact that she finds a time window to play and win it, of course. But she's Camila, and she's creative. She has ideas. She may not be able to go through with them because she doesn't have the skills for shooting balloons or hitting tin cans, but there are other ways.

So as Lauren is still comforting her in front of the stall, Camila has formed a plan in her mind. Which she _needs_ to execute.

"Come on," she says to her friend, then, "let's have a coffee. My treat."

* * *

As it turns out, the whole _having coffee and hoping she gets an opportunity to pretend she's going to the bathroom when, really, she tries to win a large duck for her friend that she's secretly in love with_ plot does _not_ work. She should have known, really, that she would neither be able to plan a distraction long enough—she managed to tell her she's going to the bathroom thrice but it never gave her enough time to play more than a round—nor actually win at any game she tries.

Apparently, she cannot handle darts, fishing rods, or balls—pun not intended—so that, at the end of the day, she's just completely frustrated and, quite honestly, disappointed. Even though she knew she most likely wouldn't be able to do it, she's disappointed with herself, her inability to go through with one lousy plan.

It shows, very obviously, on her face. She's never been good at hiding her feelings. Her emotions always scream, _I am here, I am unignorable, so look at me!_ It isn't any different today.

Which is why Lauren probably picked up on it ages ago. She hasn't said it, though, at least not until now, as they're walking home from the bus station, awkwardly trying to prevent their hands from touching too often, and trying to ignore the very obvious elephant in the room. "So…" she starts eventually.

And Camila takes a deep breath in preparation of what's to come. Surely Lauren has seen right through her. Has noticed what's going on. Is going to tell her how she loves being friends but that that's it. That it'll be too awkward to continue as anything but that.

"There's something you might want to tell me."

They're in front of Camila's house. Gentlewomen always walk their _friends_ who want more from them home. "Do I?" she asks. It's more or less rhetoric. And accompanied by a lip bite. The grass is very interesting, too, all of a sudden. So she looks down at it. Until Lauren chooses to reply.

Which she does. Ultimately. "Yeah, I think so."

Camila is surprised by how soft and quiet the tone of voice that Lauren has used is. And she's also very distracted by how much the rasp comes out when she speaks so gently. Oh, God, that rasp. She loves it so much. It's another reason she loves Lauren.

"Camz…"

The addressed presses her eyes shut. Should she risk looking up at her friend? Should she really look into eyes that reject her?

"Camila, please look at me."

She doesn't have a choice anymore. The fingers that have settled under her chin and are now pushing it upwards in a very intimate way make the decision for her. And, just like that, her now open eyes meet Lauren's green ones. Her heartbeat accelerates in a matter of seconds. But-- is it really _rejection_ she can see in these beautiful eyes? They're more curious, with a hint of sadness, sadness that the owner's friend won't tell her what's going on. That they want to keep something from her. So maybe--

Lauren clears her throat. "Want me to tell you what I think?"

Camila blinks. Does she? In a way, yes. Just to take the pressure of explaining things off of her. But then again, does she really want to hear--

"Okay, so, here it goes," Lauren interrupts her, "I can tell you're overthinking and I can't have that."

Considerate as ever. Camila probably has heart eyes, even now in a terrifying situation like this.

"I think you only agreed to the can throwing for one reason."

Well…

"And that reason is the same reason that you lied to me when having coffee and, not to forget, cotton candy." Is is just her or is Lauren becoming quiter and quieter? And-- is she coming closer?

Camila takes a step back and swallows. This is way too intimidating. She cannot be stared at like this. It's Lauren in front of her, she needs to get away or she'll risk doing stupid things like kissing her. "And-- and what would that reason be?" It comes out an octave higher than intended. It is also very shaky. God. Her hands are clammy.

"You wanted to dump me."

What? "Huh? No," Camila says, completely confused.

But the grin that Lauren shows her is enough proof that she's only messing with her. Not a good timing for a joke. "Oh, well, in that case maybe you wanted to walk around by yourself, without me. Just look at the stalls…"

Another joke. An even bigger grin. "Definitely not," Camila denies. She shakes her head, takes another step back.

Lauren follows. Again. A hum escapes her mouth. "How about you have a small bladder, or a UTI, and are embarrassed that you'll--"

 _God_ , why is she like this? "Okay," Camila gives in. She breathes in, closes her eyes. Then, she starts talking. "You know how I'm really bad at games. I thought I could be better for once. And…" she trails off. This is so embarrassing. Talking to your friend who you're into about how you're into them. Jeez.

"And…?" Lauren presses. And comes even closer.

 _Stop, or I can't guarantee I can hold back_ , Camila says in her head. Unless Lauren can understand her telepathically, there isn't a big chance she's hearing it though. "And I wanted to impress you," she admits almost inaudibly. Her cheeks redden. "I wanted to impress you, be good at the game. I wanted to, like, you know. Just show you I can be awesome at something. I meant to win you one of the stuffed animals. I know you love them. There was this duck I knew you'd love but I obviously couldn't get it. So I tried to distract you with the coffee and cotton candy and all that. I told you I was going to pee when, really, I tried different games. I just really wanted to win you something." She clenches her fists as she thinks back to how bad she had been. Why couldn't she just be miraculously great at something for once? It would have been for Lauren.

"That-- that's really sweet."

Camila blinks a few times, trying to get rid of the tears that are collecting in the corner of her eyes. "Sweet?" she repeats, "I didn't win anything."

"Camz."

"Uh-huh." Suddenly, she feels a familiar body _very_ close to hers. It radiates heat, and it comes with this wonderful dizzying smell that she's always absolutely loved. She definitely doesn't dare look up now, Lauren is too close. She cannot look up without leaning in and kissing her. Though-- fingers find their way back to her chin and--

The kissing part? If Camila had to guess, she'd say that _that_ is exactly what the woman has in mind. She's so close, she's right there, and she's touching her so intimately _again_ \-- "I think that what you were doing for me is incredibly sweet. I've always known you're very sweet--" she lets out a short, raspy laugh, "Yeah, you're definitely the sweetest."

God, this is real. It's real, real, real. The hot breath on her face is real, the hand under her chin is real, the laugh escaping Lauren's throat is real—and Camila cannot help it. She knew she'd have to do it, but now that she knows Lauren wants it too, she doesn't feel bad or embarrassed about wanting it anymore. So she does it. She leans in and im and then their lips connect. For the first time. It's soft. It's gentle. It's sweet. Sweeter than cotton candy, yet more exciting than anything she's ever experienced in her life. And her heartbeat is so fast that she thinks it might explore or jump out of her ribcage, but it's a good feeling, it reassures her that this is really happening, and she's _loving_ the feeling. It doesn't compare in any way to Lauren's plump lips moving along with her own, with the feeling of her tongue in her mouth, but it's still so _nice_. So different from the usual anxiety making her heart race.

She wants to get used to it.

* * *

Camila _doesn't_ get used to it. She does it for years, every day, but she never, ever gets used to the feeling of Lauren.

Every time they kiss is fireworks all over again, and even after they've just said _I do_ , it still makes her warm and tingly. Every single time she kisses the lips she so adores, it's like she does it for the first time, with her heart rate accelerating, her palms getting sweaty.

She likes that, though; she likes it a lot. It proves to her that what her and Lauren have hasn't turned into a boring routine that splits most couples up after many years. Instead, they still share spark-igniting hugs, fire-lighting kisses, and she hopes they never stop being that.


End file.
